


The Reasons My Other Stories are Unfinished

by mytimeconsumingsidehobby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytimeconsumingsidehobby/pseuds/mytimeconsumingsidehobby
Summary: Plot bunnies, beginnings of stories, one-shots, or drabbles. Herein lie a few of the reasons why my other stories are not done. Maybe I'll eventually flush some of these out, but for now here are a few.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	1. The Power Trip

“I’m sorry, I’m what now?”

“Lord Potter-Black-Prince-Gaunt-Lestrange-Flamel-Slytherin-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Peverell-Emrys-le Fay-Pendragon.”

“How exactly did this happen again?”

Ragnok gave a small sigh, then proceeded to tell Haraldr James Potter-etc. the reasons for his titles. Again. Normally he would be annoyed at having to explain something to a wizard for the fourth time in so many hours, but this wizard had just dropped through space and time and Ragnok was feeling rather generous.

“And you’re absolutely sure I can’t change my first name to Harry? Just Harry?”

Ragnok gave the young wizard a small exasperated glare. Even his generosity had its limits.

“Right, sorry. Just checking. So, er, what do I need to do now?”

Ragnok couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t really the best start for the one the goblins recognized as Magic’s Champion, Fate’s Chosen, and Death’s Master, but if the wizarding world imploded on itself at least it might be entertaining to watch.

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Harry (for he refused to give in and go by that ridiculous name that he was confident he did not have before), was in over his head. So, so far over. He was fairly certain he had died, although given the fact that he had been shooed through an ominous looking portal by Death, he wasn’t entirely certain if it had counted or not. He had been ejected from the portal only to find himself in a very familiar place.

He had not stayed at the Dursley’s long.

It had not taken long to realize where (and when) he was. A mob of people all eager to speak with “The Chosen One” combined with a quick tempus made him terribly aware of the fact that he was in Diagon Alley, in July, in his not-yet-sixteen year old body. It was a nightmare of the worst sort and he blamed Death and Fate. Magic was off the hook for the moment, seeing as the boost he had received was sufficient to do what he needed entirely without a wand.

So sixteen (almost), extra boost of power, and apparently thirteen titles to go along with it. He was positive there wasn’t a Potter title before, but honestly that wasn’t the greatest of his problems at the moment so he would come back to that later if he had time.

His brilliant plan of emptying out his trust vault and escaping to Canada had not turned out so well, as it turned out that Sirius’s will, which he had missed the reading of (thanks to someone he was not looking forward to seeing again particularly), had emancipated him, and given him both the Black and Lestrange lordships. He wasn’t quite sure how Sirius had managed to do that, but really even that had absolutely nothing on the other titles.

The Gaunt and Slytherin titles were by conquest, which Ragnok had helpfully explained. He could live with that. Begrudgingly, but even so. Peverell was some weird combination of blood and having died, the implications of which he was choosing not to dwell on at the moment. Flamel had apparently been bequeathed to him by the alchemist, for reasons unknown, but Ragnok had mentioned something about the Flamels being annoyed at Dumbledore, so maybe that had played a part in it. It also sounded like they weren’t actually dead, so maybe he could get them to take it back.

Emrys was apparently Magic’s other contribution to this disaster, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

The other titles he blamed squarely on Fate, because she was a terrible entity like that, and loved messing with him. The fact that the goblins’ explanation of those was rather hand-wavy supported that theory. Because _Prince_ , really? Apart from meeting Dumbledore again he was not looking forward to seeing Snape again either. Actually there were quite a few people he didn’t want to see again, hence his original plan of emigrating. But was he really going to have to see Snape while bearing the title the other man had been disowned from?

Besides, deathbed confession or not, Harry was positive the man rather hated him, and this was not going to help matters any.

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Harry strolled up to Grimmauld Place, wondering how long it would take to clean out now that he had such a big magic boost. Magic was turning out to be his favorite of the three by leaps and bounds. Not really that hard to do since Fate hated him and Death wouldn’t let him die (and how ironic was that). He was quite looking forward to testing out his increased power though, and a few cursed items from inside Grimmauld Place would be a perfect place to start.

He made his way inside, and began making a mental list of things he would need to go out for. Groceries were at the top of the list, since who knows what would actually be left there, let alone edible. Thankfully that could be done in Muggle London, which at this moment was far more bearable a prospect than venturing out into Diagon Alley or any other wizarding location. Being mobbed today had reminded him how much he loved exploring places where no one knew his name. And glamours. Glamours were nice too.

He was a little preoccupied with his thoughts (and really could you blame him? He had _died_ today), that he didn’t at first notice the fact that there were other people in the house.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

Harry spun around quickly and cast a blanket petrification spell over everything breathing. Everything breathing turned out to be the Order of the Phoenix, at least in part, seated around the kitchen table.

Sheepishly he cancelled the spell, ignoring the looks of shock all around. He was hungry and could deal with shock and awe later. Or never. Never was good too.

“Harry, my boy, how did you arrive here?”

And just like that his reasonably good mood (all things considered) died a horrible death. Even more horrible than his death this morning had been.

“I apparated, Albus,” he said challengingly. He was going to bring this whole scheming business to a swift and terrible end. Well, terrible for anyone getting in his way.

Snape began to open his mouth, no doubt to say something offensive and scathing, but Harry was not in the mood. He waved his hand a little, silencing everyone apart from Dumbledore.

“Was that really necessary?” Dumbledore asked with exasperation and that stupid twinkle of his. Harry had always been more prone to grumpiness when hungry and being routinely starved as a child had probably left some psychological scars. At least that’s what Hermione always told him, and she was usually right. He was hungry right now, grumpy that his sandwich making time was being interrupted, and still reeling form the day’s revelations. And also, you know, his death. Hermione would probably have something to say about that as well.

“I’m hungry, and I came home to find my house full of people, so yes, it was. I don’t feel like dealing with insults at the moment.”

Dumbledore peered over his glasses, but Harry had stared down far too many people to even react. Dumbledore had absolutely nothing on Poppy Pomfrey being told he had maybe died, and no one would ever be able to convince him otherwise.

“Harry, you must understand that it is not safe for you to leave your family at the moment.”

“Because of the blood wards, you mean? The ones based on love and protection that rely on the blood running through my veins? The blood that Voldemort also has running through his veins now? The ones that feed off my magic because there is no love for them to feed off of like they were designed to? I’m afraid waking up in my sixteen year, sorry, _almost_ sixteen year old body pushed that somewhere to the back of my mind. The part you’re not going to get to no matter how hard you push that Legilimency, professor.”

Swift and terrible. Harry may have enjoyed the looks of irritation, fear, and curiosity that flashed across Dumbledore’s rapidly paling face, but he was only human. Or at least he’d better be. Fate had a lot to answer for already.

He stared down Dumbledore until the older wizard finally gave in and sighed. “Would you mind at least explaining what you meant by waking up in your sixteen year old body?”

“I died,” Harry said, smirking ever so slightly at the inaudible gasps around the table. “Again,” he added for good measure, because he was slightly enjoying this. “Wound up here. Took a bit to figure out what was going on. The goblins were ever so helpful. Seems I missed Sirius’s will reading,” he continued, enjoying the slight wince on Dumbledore’s face. “Glad he emancipated me though. I can’t imagine having to deal with that legal battle on top of all the legal stuff I have to deal with already. Apparently inheriting lines thought long-dead takes a lot of paperwork and legal processes. I mean, it’s mostly the goblins and magic confirming it, but the Ministry has this whole big process to officially register them. It doesn’t even change anything, so I honestly don’t see the point. It’s not like they can do anything about it. I think they just like the paperwork, to be honest. Something to do, since they can’t be bothered to much else. Oh, that reminds me, what point are we at with the war again? My memory is a little fuzzy on the details. Voldie is officially back though, right? I got mobbed in Diagon with all that Chosen One nonsense so I figured I had at least that much right. We should probably take care of that, hmm?”

And just because he was both irritated and enjoying this moment immensely, he conjured himself a cup of tea, because you weren’t supposed to be able to do that. Magic was definitely his favorite. Did she like flowers? She was getting all the flowers.

“Titles?” Dumbledore asked weakly.

Harry could practically see Snape foaming at the mouth but he was not ready to deal with that yet. He nodded.

“More than Potter and Black?”

Part of Harry didn’t want to assuage the wizard’s curiosity, but he was mildly curious what Dumbledore’s reaction would be, and his own curiosity won out. He rattled them off and took another sip of tea.

“How?” Dumbledore whispered before plopping down into his chair.

“Fate either hates my guts, or is terribly bored. Probably both, to be honest.”

“What are you going to do now?” Dumbledore asked, voice still soft and defeated. Harry almost felt bad for him, sitting there, watching all his plans crumble around him.

“I’m going to get rid of Voldemort,” he answered simply.

“Harry, my…” Dumbledore stopped at the look on Harry’s face and cleared his throat. “Surely you must know that…”

“Oh, I know,” Harry said. “I know about _all_ of them,” he added pointedly, surprised that Dumbledore’s face could go any paler.

“I see,” was all the man said.

Harry glanced around at everyone else in the room, all still sitting or standing there silenced. “Well, I was hungry, and hoping to grab a bit of a snack before I get rid of a dark lord or two, but seeing as you are all in my house and I really don’t want to deal with this right now, I’ll just be off.”

“Or two?”

Harry turned back to Dumbledore. “I will take care of any threat to myself or my family.”

Dumbledore looked his full age there for a moment, but then he nodded, and Harry left. Hopefully that would be enough, but if not he had a few more things he could use. He was going to have to deal with everyone else eventually, but maybe it could wait until old Moldyshorts was dead at least. But first, food. Can’t fight evil on an empty stomach.

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Harry looked up from the snake guts. He did not envy Neville his contribution last time around at all.

Disposing of horcruxes was so much easier now that he knew how to find them and dispose of them quickly and efficiently. He hadn’t even been here thirty six hours and he was down to the one in his head and Voldemort himself. Not bad for a day and a half’s work, if he said so himself.

So, a little fiendfyre here, a little basilisk venom there, and his job was almost done.

Now for the part in him…

And idea struck, and before he could contemplate it much he acted on it, sending a killing curse directly to his scar.

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He awoke with a groan and a splitting headache.

“And here I thought you wouldn’t be back to visit for some time,” a dark voice chuckled.

Harry glared up at the sound. “Hello to you too, Death. Keeping me this time?”

“Of course not, little master,” the voice crooned. “Magic would be ever so upset. She quite likes you, you know. Besides, you know very well it doesn’t work that way.”

“Being kicked through a portal gave some idea of that, yeah,” Harry said, wondering if sarcasm was lost on entities such as this. Death chuckled, so he supposed not. “And way to guilt trip a guy. Magic is actually alright, unlike the rest of you lot.”

Death just chuckled more. It was an image he honestly could have gone eternity without, but maybe it would grow less disturbing with time.

“So how are you enjoying your new world,” Death asked with amusement. Again, disturbing. Death was supposed to be all scary and dark and foreboding, not, whatever this was.

“I can certainly change, if you prefer, little master.”

Harry scowled. “I’m good. And what do you mean new world?”

“Well Time isn’t a big fan of people messing with her organization, and she and Fate had a big row over one of the other universes, so I couldn’t send you back directly,” he explained.

Harry’s eye twitched. “Mind explaining that again?” he ground out.

“But of course,” Death said smugly.

Harry knew far more about Death than he ever wanted to. Namely, the fact that the entity of Death could manage to sound both smug and amused. No one needed that kind of information.

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Harry awoke. Again. Alive. Again.

Well, on the bright side it was down to just Voldemort.

He apparated himself right to Riddle’s location, using the remaining fragment’s magical signature as a guide. He sighed at the familiar location. Of course the Dark Lord was hiding out at Malfoy manor.

No one else in the room appeared to share his mood, as they were all staring at him with a mixture of shock, awe, terror (that was surprising to be honest), and anger. A lot of anger. The shoot-killing-curses-now-ask-questions-never kind of anger.

Right to Riddle’s location was not hyperbole, and apparently he was in the middle of a meeting. Oops.

“Well, sorry to interrupt, but I’m here to kill old Voldie, so if you would all just step off to the side there… Oh, killing curses work too,” Harry said, as he swatted the curses aside like you would an annoying gnat.

Plenty of insults, comments on his legitimacy, blood content, and age among other things (and it wasn’t _his_ fault he was almost sixteen again), and many attempted killing curses later (and didn’t the death eaters _know_ other spells?), he finally got so annoyed that he released a bunch of magic outward, not really caring what it did, and marched up to Riddle, before severing his head. A little gruesome, but then no one could say he used an unforgivable (because they had absolutely no evidence of that so there).

Grabbing both…parts (and somehow that snake was still worse), he apparated to the Ministry, getting quite the reaction when he did so. He should probably stop bursting in on groups of people like that. Well, at least there were a bunch of witnesses. No way the Ministry would be able to screw this up. Harry wasn’t sure how exactly one would go about screwing this situation up, but if anyone could manage it it would be them. The collective them that were a bunch of idiots run by greater idiots, not the individuals, many of whom were actually rather decent.

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He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Because when was his life ever that easy. Oh, that’s right. Fate hated him.

“Okay, just one more time, from the top, please?”

He listened carefully as Ragnok explained ever so patiently for the third time why he had so many more titles. It had only been two days, for Merlin’s sake.

“…thus all of Riddle’s branded followers who were, at the time of his demise, the Lords or heads of their own houses, are now under your control. Additionally, all those without an unmarked heir automatically revert to you in their entirety.”

Well at least Draco hadn’t been marked yet, so he didn’t wind up with the Malfoy title. He really didn’t need that in his life. Still, he did have a few titles to add to his growing collection, reluctant as he was, including some that had died out but still counted. It was terrible.

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It had been a week, and he had taken care of everything he could think of. He had an entire team of goblins working on sorting through his various houses and accounts, which more than made up for the fact that they had been the ones to spring this on him in the first place. Ragnok now held a place in his book for most patient individual on the planet, since Harry asked every question at least three or four times before giving up on the hope that the answer would change. The other goblins were just enthusiastic which was mildly terrifying, but since it worked for him he could live with it.

Oh, and the wizarding world was in total chaos.

Happy chaos, mind you, since for most of them it had only been a matter of weeks between the realization that Voldemort was back and the very public declaration of his death (for real this time). Harry was fairly certain a couple people had tried to write them into their wills, but he had finally convinced Ragnok to help him get out of that. St. Mungo’s on the other hand had never before received so many donations at once, and they had already sent him a letter requesting that he accept a place on the board.

He hadn’t yet figured out a way to get out of that one. They must have known what they were doing too, because they sent the sweetest little old lady to him with the request. Anyone else he would have had no problem saying no to, but an hundred and eighty year old witch who had pioneered certain healing techniques before Dumbledore was even born, and who kept comparing him to all the best looking quidditch players from a century ago was not one of them.

So yes, Voldemort was dead. For good.

Dumbledore had taken a moment of convincing, but he had finally disbanded the Order of the Phoenix. He hadn’t wanted to, citing the need to make sure the remaining death eaters were taken care of, but when Harry pointed out the fact that they had no legal authority to do anything, and even if they did, they weren’t likely to do anything super effective at this point, _and_ that Harry basically controlled all the marked death eaters now… Well, Harry hadn’t given the headmaster much of a choice. Besides, now he had his house back.

It had been a week though, and now he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t really want to go back to Hogwarts, seeing as he had already graduated once. And mentally he was way older than any other student there. But he did need NEWTs still. And unfortunately, the ministry would not allow anyone under the age of seventeen to take them, so he had another year before that would be possible.

So what to do now…

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The Department of Mysteries was so much more fun when you weren’t breaking in. So many rooms, so many weird things to see, so many possibilities.

And the veil of death.

In this world, it had only been a matter of weeks since Sirius’s death. For Harry, it had been years, hence why he wasn’t a complete emotional wreck standing in front of the veil.

“Er, you need any help Lord Potter, sir?”

The hero worship was old before it ever started, but it did have its benefits.

“You might want to stand back,” Harry said, drawing his wand and pointing it at the archway.

Every Unspeakable in the room took a big step away from him.

He felt a great tugging on his magic as he willed the veil to return something to him. It wasn’t working, so he mentally yelled at Death for a moment. Inside his mind he heard an over exaggerated sigh, then he felt the connection through the veil snap back.

A few minutes later he had a very startled Sirius Black, and some very interested Unspeakables surrounding them.

“Welcome back, Sirius,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the whispers and quill scratches around them.

Sirius around for a moment before turning back to Harry. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Harry replied, still cheerful. “I can tell you later if you like. Oh, by the way, I sort of got your title already. And your house. You can have it back if you…”

“Oh thank Merlin,” Sirius interrupted. “And don’t you dare try and give it back.”

“It was worth a shot,” Harry said with a shrug. “Now, shall we go clear you name?”

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Harry ignored the looks they were getting as they all traipsed through the Ministry. It was a rather odd sight, and he could acknowledge that fact. Harry, easily recognizable from every newspaper headline in the past few days, followed by notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, followed by a dozen Unspeakables all furiously taking notes as they walked.

Thankfully everyone else was too shocked to do anything, which really helped Harry. He might also have possibly cast a few subtle spells as they went, reducing anyone’s need to intervene.

Finally they reached Madam Bones’ office.

“Hello, I’m here to clear the name of Sirius Black and reinstate him on the records of the living,” Harry stated simply.

He felt a little bad for the poor secretary that looked like he was about to pass out.

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“Lord Potter,” Madam Bones sighed, “do you have any physical evidence to back up your statements?” She held up a hand just as he was about to protest. “I believe you, just to be clear, but this would go a lot quicker if you did.”

Harry thought about it for a second. He just needed to get a fix on a certain rat’s location…

“I’ll be right back,” he said, before apparating on the spot.

One quick rat-catching expedition later, and he was back in the office.

“Here you go,” he said, tossing the stunned rat down on the desk.

Madam Bones gave him an incredulous look.

“Oh, right, sorry,” he said, before forcing Wormtail’s transformation back to that of a wizard.

“I don’t think I will even bother asking how you managed to apparate from inside my office,” Madam Bones said, “but is this who I think it is?”

“If you are thinking this is Peter Pettigrew, the one who really betrayed my parents, then yes, it is.” Harry exposed the dark mark on the rat’s arm for good measure.

Madam Bones pinched the bridge of her nose even as she asked, “is there anything else I can do for you, Lord Potter?”

“Can we get Sirius declared alive again?”

Madam Bones sighed. “Go talk to the goblins. They handle all the death certification so they are the most direct route to take.”

“Ah, I was hoping you weren’t going to say that,” Harry muttered.

“Any reason why not?” Madam Bones asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Every time I go there they keep trying to stick me with new titles,” Harry grumbled.

No one else seemed to adequately sympathize with his plight.

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“Hey Remus, guess who I brought home with me?”

Remus was a nice person so Harry had invited him to stay. Also, he really wanted to make sure his godson was born again so he needed to keep a close eye on Remus and Tonks, just to be safe.

“Hi, Harry. How was the…”

A glass shattered, thought Harry was quick to put it to rights, and a lot of screaming, tears, cussing, hugging, and questions took place over the next little while. Today had been quite the success.

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“So you mean to tell me that Death is an actual… what, entity?”

“Yeah, something like that. He has a terrible sense of humor, by the way. So any chance either of you know how to get rid of some titles?”

“How many do you have, exactly?” Remus questioned carefully.

“Thirty-seven,” came Harry’s reply.

“That’s… Wow, alright. That’s a third of the Wizengamot right there. And you want to get rid of them because…”

Harry leveled them both an unimpressed look. “I had a hard enough time with the Black one in my last life. World. Whatever. Potter didn’t hold a title, and I certainly didn’t have to deal with any of the rest of these. Besides, the one title I did have wasn’t exactly a functional thing. Just sort of a leftover bit from a couple centuries ago. Here it comes with much more responsibility, and there’s no way I can deal with that many at once. Not to mention a lot of them still having living family members, most of whom hate my guts, so…”

“Well as far as I know the only way to pass it on is to die, or essentially abdicate your position to a child or adopted heir.”

Harry frowned. “Wait, Sirius, does that mean you adopted me?”

“As an heir, yeah. Not by blood. That’s a different one, though they typically go together.”

“Right… Well dying didn’t work, obviously, so what you’re saying is I just need to adopt a bunch of people and have them take over.”

“Not exactly. You can’t just adopt anyone. Besides, you’re fifteen,” Remus pointed out.

“Almost sixteen,” Harry grumbled.

“Is no one going to focus on the fact that Harry already tried the dying bit?” Sirius asked, concerned.

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His decreased age was turning out to be most inconvenient. First of all, he couldn’t go magically adopt a bunch of people as his heirs. Secondly, despite being emancipated, he couldn’t retake his NEWTs for another year. Thirdly, he had somehow been talked into returning to Hogwarts, which was a terrible idea he decided, as he watched most of the girls and quite a few of the guys flirt with him. At least he was pretty sure that’s what they were doing.

At least he had switched his classes around this time, so he wouldn’t have the same lineup as before. Time to cram in some Arithmancy studying. Hermione was so proud. He was glad at least one person was happy with this arrangement.

Dumbledore hadn’t actually been all that keen on Harry returning. He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised at that or not, since on the one hand, staying away would mean he couldn’t cause Dumbledore any trouble at Hogwarts (though the outside world was an entirely different matter), but on the other hand, the headmaster wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him. Harry had thought that was Dumbledore’s favorite pastime, but maybe his previous words had made some sort of impact. One could hope.

He had also left strict instructions to Sirius to _subtly_ encourage Remus and Tonks in their slowly developing relationship. Harry himself had been far from subtle, telling them exactly what he thought about them getting together and wishing them well on giving him his first godchild again. Their faces had been worth every second, especially since he had left for Hogwarts right after.

Which is where he now was. Hogwarts. Once a place he considered home, now a place full of people who looked far too young to be flirting with him, or anyone for that matter. All his friends looked far too young as well, but in a way they were still almost like the people he had left.

Mostly.

He tried not to focus on that bit too much.

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Harry was barely awake, trying to focus on his breakfast. He was quite unaccustomed to early mornings now, and by the time he reached Friday he was spent.

A sharp nudge at his side forced him to sit up and pay a little more attention to the world through.

“Whas go on,” he mumbled.

Neville pointed to the Great Hall’s main doors, at which stood an entirely too happy looking Ragnok and assorted other goblins.

Harry was suddenly fully awake and on high alert.

“No, no, absolutely not,” he practically shouted at them. “I don’t care. No way. I will not.”

“Why Lord Potter, you don’t even know what we are here about. Why, for all you know this may have nothing to do with you.”

“Really?” Harry asked hopefully.

“But as a matter of fact it does,” Ragnok continued, “so if you would kindly come with me, I’m sure we can take care of this in a matter of minutes.”

Well there went that hope.

He considered manfully running away, but Neville shoved him off the bench and in the direction of the goblin contingent.

“Please tell me this isn’t another one,” Harry said when he got close enough.

“Not exactly,” one of the other goblins began. “It’s more related to one of your existing titles.”

“Go on,” Harry said cautiously. The look on Ragnok’s face was far too suspicious. He wasn’t even one of the goblins that normally got so excited, so this had to be bad.

“Well, you see, with the Pendragon title comes a certain claim, and combines with the Emrys and le Fay titles, you are really the only possible claimant.”

Harry may have failed History of Magic, but he knew enough and did not like where this was heading. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly.

“It would allow you to redistribute the other titles,” Ragnok said.

Oh, Harry was so conflicted. “Go on…”

“If you would just sign here, and here,” yet another goblin said, pressing a piece of parchment and a quill into his hand, “we can get this all settled for you right away.”

Harry glanced over the parchment, trying not to let it spontaneously burst into flames. He honestly didn’t know which option was worse. Keep his (now forty-two) titles, or be able to get rid of all of them and take over as… He sighed. King Harry just didn’t sound all that great.

As if reading his mind Ragnok chimed in, “you would of course be known as King Haraldr.”

Harry sent a glare the goblin’s way that did absolutely nothing. “That’s not any better, you know.”

“Er, Harry,” Ron said, walking up to them. “What’s this about then?”

Harry handed him the offending parchment and took a quick look behind him. The entire Great Hall was completely silent, all eyes on himself and the goblins. Whoops.

“So you’re… going to be king?”

“Nope,” Harry said, decision made. With that he took back the parchment and let it catch fire. There. Now there would be no more of that nonsense.

“We do, of course, have plenty of copies of that, should you change your mind,” Ragnok informed him, not the least bit disturbed by his display.

Of course they did.

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“Harry…” Dumbledore began.

“No, no, me first. Did you know any of this was possible?”

The headmaster shook his head. “Potter, yes. Black, most likely. Slytherin, possibly. The others? Not a clue, though I suspect it may have something to do with how you got here in the first place.”

Harry sighed a great sigh. “Look, I don’t particularly trust you, since you screwed me over as much as anyone else ever did. But I am so far out of my depth here, and honestly if you have any ideas I would love to hear them.”

“And what seems to be the problem you are having?”

Harry snorted. “What problem am I not having? Let’s see. I have far too many titles, I’m responsible for every former death eater and half of their families, I’m stuck in the body of a sixteen year old, I can’t take my NEWTs for another year, all my friends are so young, and don’t really know me now, half the school is flirting with me and making me feel like a pervert, and did I mention my body is sixteen again? Oh, and now the goblins tell me I could be king. I didn’t know magical Britain even had a king. Since when do they have a king?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I have very little in the way of answers, but perhaps you can ask those who assisted you in getting here for their further assistance.”

“How do you know these things,” Harry practically pouted. He was sixteen again. Sue him.

The headmaster chuckled. “I have lived a long time, and I have seen many things. I do not know everything, and as you are painfully aware, I have made many mistakes. But I have learned to recognize when forces belong our control are at work.”

“Yeah, well, Fate hates me and even though I can supposedly tell Death what to do, fat lot of good it’s done me so far.”

“And what about Time, or Karma, or Magic? Chaos? Justice? How many others are involved?”

“Just Magic, as far as I know. I don’t know how many there are, to be honest.”

“I doubt anyone does.”

“Yeah, well, far as I know it’s just those three. Magic is alright though. Not nearly as bad as the other two.”

The headmaster chuckled again. “I daresay most would agree with you there, Lord Potter.”

Harry made a face. “That sounds so wrong when you say it. Can’t we just go back to Harry or Mr. Potter or something?”

“If you wish,” Dumbledore said, twinkle back in his eye. “And perhaps you ought to go back to calling me Albus, as you did before.”

Harry scowled. “It’s so annoying when you do that, you know.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Albus said. Harry was certain he caught an extra twinkle in the man’s eye.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

“So, you’re not mad at headmaster now?” Sirius asked, as Harry cast a few last diagnostic spells on the people in front of him.

“It’s complicated,” he explained. “I’m plenty mad, but I also realize that he’s one of the smartest wizards around, and right now I feel like I need all the help I can get. Besides, I think he finally gave up trying to run things. He seems pretty eager to push me into that role though. Not sure how I feel about that, really.”

“The king thing still?”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I mean, it’s been two months. How long before they finally give up?”

Sirius looked up thoughtfully. “Well, let’s see. It’s November, right. Been about two months, so… never?” He laughed at Harry’s scowl. “Goblins don’t give up. I thought you’d have known that by now.

“It’s all Fate’s fault, you know,” Harry said, still scowling. “She must’ve done something to Magic to get her to do that.”

“I don’t think Magic would take kindly to that insinuation,” Sirius pointed out non-helpfully.

“Let’s just get back to this, shall we?”

Sirius gestured for him to continue.

Pushing his other concerns to the back of his mind, Harry began the careful process of entering the mind. It took nearly three hours, and he was exhausted by the end of it, but when he finally surfaced again, he was rewarded with a soft, “James?”

“Uh, no, sorry. I’m Harry. Harry Potter?”

“Little Haraldr?”

Harry felt his eye twitch at that. “Yeah, Lady Longbottom. It’s been a while.”

“Where am I?”

“St. Mungo’s. Do you remember anything that happened?”

“That Lestrange woman was there and… Oh, what happened to Neville? Is he okay?”

Harry slumped back a little in relief. “Yeah, he’s here. Fair warning though, you’ve been under for quite some time.”

“May I see him?” Alice Longbottom asked softly.

“Of course you can,” Harry said with a warm smile, before getting up to let Neville back in the room.

After many tears and words and questions and hugs and kisses and all kinds of other things indicative of an emotional reunion, Harry felt sufficiently recovered.

“Alright, shall we try your dad now?” he asked Neville, who nodded without looking his way, his mother still firmly in his embrace.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

“You did good, pup,” Sirius said, thumping him on the back.

“Thanks, Sirius. Thought I might as well try to fix a couple things if I can.”

“Any other plans?”

“Besides running away and hiding in New Zealand for the rest of my life? Not really.”

“You know, maybe that whole king thing wouldn’t be so terrible.”

Harry looked at Sirius like he had just complimented his mother. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, just think about it. You already have the power to run the government, seeing it would take an unanimous vote against you to do anything other than what you want.”

“Bloody titles,” Harry muttered, thinking of the additional seventeen titles the goblins had somehow managed to dig up. Apparently his consent wasn’t required for those. Stupid Fate.

“Well, you’d at least be rid of the titles you do have, if you wanted, and as king you could always delegate.”

Harry’s face lit up. “Sirius, you are a bloody genius!”

“Of course I am, but why exactly?”

“Deleagte! I could be rid of all of it entirely!”

“Not quite following there, kid, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, “this is going to be great. Next stop, Gringotts.”

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

In hindsight he should have payed closer attention to the look of joy on the goblins’ faces as he signed that blasted parchment.

Leaving Hogwarts had been emotional for everyone except him. His friends were sad that he was going, even if they understood that he was different from the Harry they had always known and that he didn’t really fit there anymore. But there were many tears shed by those who saw their hoped of catching the eye of the Boy-Who-Loved/Man-Who-Conquered/newly crowned King of Wizarding Britain dissolve before their eyes. Harry wasn’t going to miss that at all.

Arriving at his new home had been absolutely thrilling. He and Sirius, who had firmly stated that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Black title or Grimmauld Place again, had arrived in Canada, ready for a fresh start and a bit of peace. It had taken a week for them to realize that they weren’t prepared for this type of cold, warming charms or not, so it was off to Australia after a mere ten days in their original destination.

Their change of plans had to be the reason for the goblins’s missive taking so long to reach them, since the goblins were usually quite prompt in their communications, long international distances being of little consequence typically.

But now he knew why the goblins had been so happy when he signed that paper, even though he had explained his intention of leaving the country.

“Sirius, did you know Australia is part of magical Britain?”

“What? Since when?”

“Since always. Take a look at this.”

Sirius looked over the latest evidence of Fate meddling in Harry’s life. “Tough luck, kid,” was all he said, patting Harry sympathetically on the shoulder.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

It took Harry moving to fourteen more countries before he gave up running away from the kingship he felt he had been tricked into.

It took nine years before he could find someone to take over the last of his other titles, the Potter and Pendragon ones staying with him.

It took an additional forty-three years before any of his children were willing to take over.

He never got rid of his seat on the St. Mungo’s board.

It took until he reached a hundred and ninety two before he finally died. He had been determined to beat Dumbledore in that. So maybe he was _slightly_ bitter still.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

“Ah, welcome back,” was the dark voice that greeted him.

“Aww, did you miss me?”

“Of course we did, sweetie,” the melodic voice of Magic answered.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” Harry said, beaming at the entity before conjuring up the largest bouquet of flowers he could imagine. “For you, my lady,” he said with a polite bow.

Magic giggled, which was infinitely preferable to Death’s chuckle.

“So, you ready for the next one?” Fate asked excitedly.

Harry’s good mood immediately dropped. “The _what_ now?”

“The next lifetime of course.”

His eye twitched in a way that not a single one of his children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren had ever managed to get from him. “No. Absolutely not. I’m staying here.”

“Well you’re the Master of Death,” Fate answered with poorly hidden amusement. “You can’t stay dead.”

“First of all, that makes no sense. Second of all, watch me.”

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

At five minutes ’til midnight, on the last day of July, Hadrian James Potter was born, kicking and screaming.

That life lasted almost as long as his previous one.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

Fate and Death swore he would never experience his own birth again.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

The first time he managed to arrive as someone other than a version of himself he was thrilled. Until he found out he was Merlin.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

It took a great deal of convincing to get Time and Chaos on his side, but eventually he won them over. Magic was still his favorite though, especially since she kept giving him such lovely things. Unlimited animagus forms were his particular favorite.

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚

After a few hundred lifetimes he was so bored, and honestly just so done with everything. Death had gotten a little better, since Harry had finally figured out how to deal with the entity he had been granted control over. Fate was still terrible, but with Karma’s intervention she had loosened up a bit.

Chaos was the one that finally presented him with a solution.

“So remember that second life where your dad was a super big fan of Loki and won the bet?”

“The one I was Haraldr? Yes…” Harry began. “Also, why do you sound like an American?”

Chaos saved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Now, Loki. What about going to a world with him? He’s one of my favorites, you know.”

Harry shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

“You already picked another one?” Death asked, strolling by.

“Chaos said something about Loki? Sounds interesting.”

“Wait, are you talking about _those_ worlds?” Death asked Chaos, who grinned back at him.

“Yep!”

Death gave a sigh of relief, which Harry hadn’t seen since that one time Justice had left after chewing Death out for ignoring her for too long.

Death turned to face his little master, which is what he still referred to Harry as even after all those lifetimes. “Oh this is perfect. I’m sure you’ll love these. Just feel to get rid of Thanos as quickly as possible. He’s always so irritating, chasing after one or other of my servants. Even tried to get me down there, if you can believe it.”

“Er, sure.” Harry wasn’t sure who that was but to annoy Death to that extent took a lot. Harry had tried.

“Great, well off you go then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to write a Harry Potter/Avengers crossover because I have half a dozen different short little stories/parts of a story that all end with "hey, let's go to this universe now." It'll happen eventually. Probably.


	2. A Different Kind of Understanding

Despite the darkening of his mark over the past many months, he hadn’t quite been prepared for the searing pain in his arm. The Dark Lord was back, and he was being summoned once again.

He looked around to see if he could spot Karkaroff, and perhaps gauge how widespread the summoning was. It would be a poor estimate but any knowledge would be useful in this moment.

He only managed to catch Dumbledore’s eye, which was seriously lacking in its usual twinkle. Dumbledore gave a quick nod, indicating his awareness of the situation, and he took off for a place beyond the wards from which to apparate.

The timing could in no way be a coincidence, and he tried to block from his mind what he might find when he arrived. He could only hope that the foolish child he had sworn to protect was not yet dead, although it was unlikely he would have much of an opportunity to do anything regardless. Still, his vow would compel him to try.

∞∞∞∞∞

Whatever he had expected to find, this was certainly not it. His first thoughts of relief at the sight of a Harry Potter who was very much alive were quickly shoved aside in favor of taking in the strange sight.

Harry Potter was alive, yes, but so was the Dark Lord.

Except the Dark Lord looked younger than Severus had ever seen him, and he was… pouting? As much as he would have loved to have been able to think of literally any other word to describe him, the Dark Lord was sitting on the ground, arms crossed, pout firmly fixed in place.

The other Death Eaters were mostly frozen, though due to shock rather than a spell as far as he could tell.

And Harry Potter was clutching his stomach, bent nearly in half, and…

Laughing.

The blasted boy was _laughing_.

“My Lord…” one of the braver (or incredibly stupid) Death Eaters began.

“Yes?” Potter said, barely managing to get it out between his cackling.

“How dare you…”

“You filthy little…”

“My Lord, I’m begging you…”

In between all the protests of the Death Eaters who had remembered they possessed a voice, a few spells shot out in Potter’s direction.

There was no time to react, but intervention proved unnecessary seeing as the spells fizzled out before they could hit their mark.

Potter stopped his laughter (finally), and turned towards those who had cast the spells.

“Don’t think that’s going to do much,” he said with a grin.

Stupid Gryffindors and their absolute lack of survival instincts.

“My Lord?” someone pleaded.

The Dark Lord had been pouting, but now he looked furious. This was certainly more familiar, but Severus was already missing the previous look, no matter how strange it had appeared.

“Yes, welcome back, my not so helpful followers,” he said sarcastically before mumbling something about incompetent rats.

Only then did Severus recognize the sniveling form of Pettigrew sitting off to the side. He was bound and bleeding, and looked rather miserable. Severus withheld a smirk at the sight.

“Alright then,” Potter said cheerfully. “Story time. Have a seat everyone.”

No one moved an inch.

“ _Now_ ,” Potter said with greater force.

A second later Severus found himself seated on the ground. Had he actually just _listened_ to Potter?

Potter began pacing back and forth in front of the rest of them.

“Now, I’m sure you all remember Voldemort,” he began, voice cheerful once again.

Severus tried to keep his flinch to a minimum, but noticed several others grabbing their arms.

Potter paused. “Ah, so it does do something. Be a dear and fix that, would you?” he said, turning to the Dark Lord, who just scowled back but did not say anything.

“Now, as I was saying, I’m sure you all remember the ‘Dark Lord,’” Potter continued. “Turns out he wasn’t so dead after all. Of course I could have told you that three years ago. Or two years ago. Or six _months_ ago when I went to Gringotts.”

Well that was news to Severus. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.

“Funny thing about facing someone down three times. Little thing called right of conquest.”

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and could almost see the same thing happening to everyone else.

“And then of course this whole tournament debacle which I did _not_ enter myself in,” Potter said, sending a glare Karkaroff’s way. Huh. So he had made it.

“Well, seeing as no one actually objected to my entry, I was declared a legal adult, not that anyone bothered to inform me of that fact. But still, here I am, fourteen and head of… oh, well I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I.”

Potter grinned and Severus wondered just how closely the Potters were related to the Blacks.

“Rituals are quite complex bits of magic. So much that can go wrong. For example, trying to get blood from your enemy to resurrect your body is one thing, but when you accidentally skip a couple of the steps of the ritual you were trying to do, well… Who knew the fertility and adoption rituals were so similar to the weird resurrection ones at the back of the book?”

∞∞∞∞∞

In a single night Harry Potter went from Hogwarts student and Triwizard Champion to Lord of twenty three different houses and Head of an additional forty seven.

He was the defeater of the Dark Lord four times over, and had won everything by right of conquest.

It was a great new age for Wizarding Britain.

At least, that’s what the Ministry and the papers focused on.

What everyone who actually knew the entire story failed to mention was the fact that Harry Potter was also now biologically the previous Dark Lord’s parent, the ritual having overridden Tom Riddle’s muggle father’s blood. And previous, yes, because Harry Potter was now a dark lord. He might not be going by that title, and everyone else seemed happy to forgo that particular moniker, but he controlled everyone bound to Voldemort, as well as Voldemort himself.

Voldemort had maintained nearly perfect control over his marked followers before his demise, and it had only been because of his growing insanity that Severus had managed to approach Dumbledore at that point at all.

Now, that control fell to Potter, who was young, powerful, and not driven insane by dark rituals that had torn at his soul.

Potter had, however, been betrayed, shunned, or abused by nearly everyone who should have ever helped him, and for the first time in many years, Severus was truly afraid.


	3. A Familiar Stranger

Ginny wasn’t quite sure what had gone wrong, but here she was, an entire year before she had meant to go. Oh well. It wasn’t _that_ bad, really. All it meant was that she had a year to wait before going to Hogwarts. A year at home. By herself. Bored out of her mind…

She would ask Bill where his old books were. That was a better plan.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Draco stared at the sorting hat. Glared might be a more correct term, but he preferred the word determined. Because he _would_ be going back to Slytherin, no matter how much Charlie bloody Weasley had accused him of being a secret Gryffindor. He was _not_ , thank you very much. His plan to go back in time was perfectly sound, well thought out, and not at all reckless or foolish or anything else that could be associated with Gryffindor. Not at all.

When it finally came time for his sorting, he concentrated very hard on Slytherin, throwing in a mental image of the sorting hat on fire should it dare to sort him otherwise.

This sorting may have gone even faster than his first one.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Well now Potter was in Slytherin, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. The entire hall had gone silent, and the looks of those sitting at the head table were varied, but mostly in the levels of shock shown.

He honestly hadn’t expected this when he had forced himself to be civil to Weasley on the train and had been nice to Potter.

Finally they neared the end of the sorting. Weasley went up there, but then the hat shouted “SLYTHERIN” again and Draco suddenly feared he had landed in a different universe altogether, rather than a different time. He really couldn’t think of another explanation.

And then Blaise went into Gryffindor and everything was terrible and he was stuck with Weasley _and_ Potter, and he wouldn’t even have Blaise’s sarcasm to help him cope for the next seven years. Merlin he was regretting his time travel already.

He glanced over at Theo, but realized the boy wasn’t going to be much help unless Draco managed to bring him out of his shell a lot sooner. Well, he certainly had his work cut out for him.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Ginny finally got hold of the letter that her mum hadn’t been able to say anything about since she had practically fainted.

Then she practically cackled.

Ron was in Slytherin. _Harry_ was in Slytherin.

They were going to spend the next seven years with _Malfoy_.

She had no idea why those two had ended up there, but whatever the reason, it was going to make the next several years very interesting for her.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Eleven year olds were so malleable it was ridiculous. Three weeks in and Draco had every single first year essentially following him around like a little puppy. Or at least they would be, if he had allowed that kind of behavior.

Although part of it might be that he was nice and actually knew where he was going.

He had tried to be less nice, he really had. But they were all so tiny and cute and Merlin he was turning into his mother.

Ducklings. That’s what they were. Adorable little ducklings.

Potter… sorry, _Harry_ , had told him that Hagrid had told him bad things about Slytherin (because of course he had), but that Draco was really nice so obviously Slytherin couldn’t be _that_ bad _._

Draco desperately needed to instill a better sense of self-preservation in the boy-who-lived as soon as possible.

Weasley had then explained that if Harry Potter was in Slytherin, it couldn’t be all bad. Draco also quickly learned that his lifelong regret at not having any siblings was unnecessary and being an only child was perfectly alright.

Winning over the first years in the other houses had taken longer (an entire week versus a day and a half), but that too was rather easy. Be nice, be helpful, and be authoritative.

Ducklings, the whole lot.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Ginny was so _bored_. She had been through every one of the books Bill and Charlie had left at home. Twice. She didn’t have a wand yet to practice, so she had started working on casting some of the first year spells wandlessly. And then wandless _and_ nonverbal.

She had practically given up trying to get information out of Ron, but she knew how to phrase things to Percy to get him to spill the news, so she had at least _some_ idea of what was going on.

And from what she had gathered the boys going into Slytherin was not the only change. Zabini of all people was a Gryffindor, which was really too bad because he turned out really cute later on. If only he weren’t eleven.

And Malfoy was nice? Maybe the boys were a good influence on him or something. Ginny really didn’t want to think about it too much. It was all so strange.

Besides, thinking of what was happening at Hogwarts without her only reminded her of how bored and alone she was here.

At least Luna was around, even if she was ten.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Draco wanted to find a flat surface to bang his head on, he really did, but he was trying to teach Harry and Weasley how to be proper Slytherins, so he couldn’t start setting a bad example _now_.

But really, were the adults here all incapable of actually doing anything?

Well, Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord, so he at least had an excuse. But his thankfully alive godfather was _not_ being very helpful right now.

“Leave it be,” Draco, and, “it’s not any of your concern, Draco,” were all he was getting.

And now Harry and Weasley were somewhere near the third corridor like the Gryffindors they were meant to be. Draco wasn’t sure how they had gotten Granger mixed up in their little scheme, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but someone had to go save those three tiny idiots from themselves. And from the Dark Lord. That was important too.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Draco felt a little bad for shouting at the three. He was fairly certain he had made Granger cry, and then that had made him feel bad for some unknown reason, so now here he was, holding a tearful Granger, glaring down Harry and Weasley as they finished their apologies.

To Granger, obviously. Their apologies to him could come once he was no longer dealing with a crying first year Gryffindor girl, which was essentially the definition of what he was not prepared to handle.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

It had taken quite a bit of planning, but Harry Potter was officially coming home with Draco. Despite Weasley’s assurances that having siblings wasn’t all that great, Draco thought it would go rather well. It had better, given the amount of effort he had gone to to make this happen. Of course, there was a good chance it wouldn’t last, seeing as Black would likely take custody eventually, but even then they’d be cousins, and there was no way Draco would allow Black to keep Harry from him.

Besides, Draco was the one who “accidentally” discovered that Pettigrew was alive and living as a pet rat.

He hadn’t been able to enact any of his rather vivid torture fantasies regarding the rat, but that was probably for the best seeing as he was technically eleven and shouldn’t know any of those spells yet anyway. Or ever, probably.

He could still be gleeful that the stupid rat was finally taken care of. He had always hated Wormtail.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Ginny finally had her letter. _Finally_.

Now there wouldn’t be any more sneaking out at night and doing wandless apparation to take care of things.

It had been for a good cause, of course. Although next time she’d probably leave the dragon wrangling to Charlie, even if it was a baby dragon.

But the other times had been fine. Even the goblins didn’t think twice about a small ten year old girl with no wand visiting her brother at work.

Now she’d be able to get to Hogwarts and take care of the horcrux there. Maybe coming back a year early wasn’t so bad after all. She was quite far ahead of schedule.

And she hadn’t even had to rescue Harry, which was a bonus. She had checked up on him a couple times, just to make sure, but the Malfoys were proving to be _far_ better guardians than the Dursleys, and Harry had seemed rather content, so she let it be.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Draco had been trying to snatch the diary all morning, but with no success. At this point he would have to snag it right out of girl Weasley’s pail, which wasn’t ideal, but at least he wouldn’t risk his father finding out the diary wasn’t where he thought.

The fight broke out as expected, and a few moments later he saw his chance.

He reached towards the pail to grab the diary and then…

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

“Malfoy, what are doing?”

Malfoy’s face froze, his hand still reaching towards the diary.

Ginny pulled it back. “Malfoy,” she said again, this time quieter, “what are you doing?”

“You really don’t want that,” he said.

“Yes I do,” she said, moving her books as far out of reach as she could without being too obvious to anyone else.

“No really, it’s not what you think it is.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “And just what is it then?”

Malfoy tried to put on an air of casualness but she saw right through it.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Not that important. Just a prank, really,” he said unconvincingly.

“I see. Well, I think I’ll be alright then.”

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Draco wanted to scream. Why was she being this difficult? None of the eleven year olds last year had been this difficult.

“Look, I need to destroy it. It could hurt someone.”

He was so done trying to explain this to a child. Why wouldn’t she just hand it back already? Instead she was giving him the strangest look.

“And how would you destroy it?” She asked, her eyes asking a hundred other questions at once.

Draco suddenly had a thought, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He must be getting truly desperate for mature company if he was fantasizing about someone else having traveled back in time.

“Well there are only a few things that would really work,” he said. “Dangerous things. So if you would just hand it back over…”

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

Ginny had a thought, but she wanted to be sure before she gave anything away.

“Like fiendfyre? Basilisk venom perhaps?”

Risky, but either he was what she thought he might be, or he was twelve and everything was fine.

Except…

“How did you know that?” was the whispered reply, and Ginny’s entire world turned upside down for the second time in a year.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

The bookstore had not been a place they could converse easily, and there was no other meeting between the two of them until the train.

It took Draco a little while to leave all the other second years who kept coming up to him to say hello, give him hugs, or ask him questions. Even longer to get away from the new first years who had apparently heard that he was the person to go to.

At least he wasn’t trying to maintain his reputation or anything.

 _Finally_ he found girl Weasley sitting alone in a compartment with Lovegood. He would have much rather have spoken with her alone, but there were worse people to witness their conversation than Lovegood.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

“I’ll be going now,” Luna said.

Ginny withheld her sigh of relief. “Why don’t you go find Harry,” she said.

Luna tilted her head. “If you say so.”

“I think it will work out well,” Ginny said with a smile, thankful that Luna took everything so in stride.

When her friend was gone she turned back to Malfoy. “You mind?”

He nodded, and withdrew his wand, casting several privacy spells that no twelve year old, no matter how studious, ought to know.

Ginny simply raised an eyebrow.

“When did you get here?” he asked without preamble.

“September first of last year,” she said. “You?” Apparently they were jumping right into it.

“Same,” he said. “When did you leave?”

“Winter Solstice, 2004.”

His head shot up. “Same,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Well that could explain why I landed a year early,” she said with a snort.

Malfoy exhaled and leaned back in his seat. “What now?”

“Why’d you come back?”

He looked at for a moment before shrugging. “Horcruxes, Potter, keeping everyone alive.”

“Is that why Pettigrew was accidentally discovered last year?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a smug grin. “Is that why Gringotts experiences their first successful break in?”

“Second, technically,” Ginny said, matching his grin. Merlin, this was weird.

“Quirrell, right,” Malfoy muttered. “Well, he’s taken care of at least.”

“Yes, so I heard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this one, and think it'd be fun to turn into a full story, but between TUOT and the few (coughelevencough) other stories I'm also currently working on, it might be a while. Or never. Who knows. Certainly not me.


End file.
